


As you command

by Anonymous



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Caning, Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Master/Servant, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Punishment, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, but only in the bedroom dont be possesive irl yall, implied aftercare, size kink but blink and you'll miss it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Impulse is one of the kindest people Zedaph knows until heisn't.
Relationships: Implied ZIT, impulseSV/Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 155
Collections: Anonymous





	As you command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HC_AnonA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HC_AnonA/gifts).



> Yes they somehow managed to go for 3k words without any filth. Smh boys, get to it!

_The bearer will receive a full day of being butlered on by Zedaph. You may call him by whatever name you like. He will call you anything you like. Bow tie included._

_Expires:_

_End of Season 7_

* * *

He looks down at the small slip of paper with a pensive look, one hand holding the pickaxe that he had been using to take down and move his shop closer to the Main Hall. Impulse hadn’t necessarily known what to expect from Zed’s _zouchers_ , but, in a way, and an idea is forming in his head, one that has a grin stretching across his lips already, it isn’t a _bad_ thing.

Impulse pockets the paper and, with a hum and a spring in his step, he gets back to working on his shop.

 _Not a bad thing at all, he_ finds himself thinking as he places and takes down blocks.

* * *

With his face and hands covered in redstone dust and his disheveled blonde hair looking a lot greyer than before he went underneath the Enchant-O-Matic, Zedaph finally crawls out from beneath the space that hides all of the machinery and circuits in all of their needlessly complicated glory. He pats the grime off of his cardigan and, though there’s an understandable amount of tiredness on his face, he looks content, happy even. There’s always that high of finishing a contraption that Zedaph can’t quite get enough of, but he has to give it to himself, he’s been working on his enchanting setup for a few hours now and he really needs a break.

His thoughts immediately turn to a late lunch and a nap, but a _ding_ from his communicator brings Zedaph back. He searches his trouser pockets for a minute before realising, with a groan, that he must have left it beneath the Enchant-O-Matic.

‘Curses, Zedaph, you fool!’, he pumps his fist in the hair. After a bit more crawling about and after Zedaph is sure he can start a veritable dust museum with his clothes alone, he has his communicator in his hand and is walking to his chest to find a change of clothes and something to eat.

_ <ImpulseSV> Hey Zed, wanna meet tonight? _

A look at his Actual Sun tells Zedaph that he has, maybe, an hour left to meet Impulse if he hurries up, and, with a smile, Zedaph texts back, already feeling his stomach churn with excitement. As far as he knows, Tango is still busy with his evil lair building, which Zedaph is most certainly not planning to cover in a multicoloured array of flowers once it _is_ done, for sure, but Zedaph still misses his boyfriends, so he isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have a little date with Impulse. 

_ <Zedaph> Sure thing, Pulsey _ _  
_ _ <Zedaph> What do you have in mind? _

Zedaph remembers a story about how he called Tango over only to convince him to start work on yet another redstone project and he smiles a little, expecting this situation to turn out quite similar. Zedaph giggles to himself as he grabs a bit of mutton that he has laying around, but then the communicator dings again.

_ <ImpulseSV> Meet me at my village starter house. And bring a bow tie :) _

‘Oh my’, Zedaph says as he reads the message once, then twice, and then shakes his head with a smile and a small blush, ‘So he got the butler zoucher, huh?’

Impulse is probably going to have Zedaph help him with some boring villager stuff, he can already see it. But…

As long as they get to spend time together, Zedaph doesn’t really mind. And he doesn’t mind the diamonds, or rather, the _promise_ of them either.

* * *

Impulse's village house, all yellow sand bricks and mostly empty chests, is quite cozy, if a little too small for more than a dusty bed cramped in the corner, but Zedaph doesn't mind, though it is a bit intriguing that Impulse would want to meet here of all places, unless he really does have some villager problems to attend to. And as everyone knows, villagers are the worse. Well, that's not necessarily true, Zedaph waves at a farmer and gets a nod in return, the villager heading for the cleric, who's waving a single carrot about. Villagers are fine, Zedaph thinks, but they're not always collaborative and Zedaph can't really blame them. He shakes his head and, soon enough, he is at the door of Impulse's house and knocking because Zedaph is very polite like that.

'Hey, Impulse!', he doesn't wait for a response to his knocking and kicks the door open, but gently, 'A little birdie told me you got a zou-'

Zedaph chokes on his own words as he catches of glimpse of the inside of the small room and of the one expecting him there. Dark blue fabric has been draped over the window, casting the room in a darkness that's such a contrast to the red hue of the setting sun behind him that, for a moment, Zedaph can't even make out the chests or the bed that he _knows_ are still there. Seconds tic by with Zedaph being uncharacteristically quiet and when his vision does adjust, he does a double take.

'... Impulse?', Zedaph calls out to the man sitting on the bed, one leg crossed over the other and an elbow resting on his knee, his chin supported by a hand casually thrumming against his own cheek. He has his usual black shirt on and his usual jeans and everything about him is just as Zedaph has always known it, except...

Except, he is looking at Zedaph with eyes so intense that their rich, chocolate brown shines almost gold and he has a casual grin on his face, not the usual wide smile that Zedaph knows and loves.

Not that he loves the way Impulse is looking at him right now any less, though.

Maybe he has been wrong in his assumption of how Impulse was planning to cash his zoucher in and the thought leaves Zedaph a bit more confused and bit more heated up than he had been just moments ago.

'Cat got your tongue?', Impulse asks and the dichotomy between the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, which sounds more like he is just getting involved in some everyday conversation with a friend and not like he… Well.

Zedaph swallows and waves a hand in the air.

'Nah, just surprised you'd downgrade your lighting game like this', Zedaph says dismissively, but he doesn't move from where he's standing in the doorway. With a chuckle that sounds just a bit too deep, one that makes Zedaph's knees buckle ever so slightly, Impulse rises to his feet and he looks down at him. Zedaph is almost tempted to take a step back, the tension inside the small room signifying either nothing good or something _great._

'Really? I'd say this is quite atmospheric', Impulse is still talking like he usually is, voice as bright as ever, but his movements are slow, deliberate. 

'To each their own, I suppose', Zedaph smiles, shrugging as his hand searches for the doorknob behind him, 'Now, I believe you called me over for one of my, ahem, business endeavours?'

Impulse takes a step forward, his hands behind his back, his shoulders set in a straight line and, oh, what nice shoulders Impulse has, Zedaph finds himself thinking, but he shakes his head and tries to look at Impulse's face instead, banishing the image of hanging onto those broad shoulders in an embrace, or maybe-

Looking at Impulse’s face is no better, however, because that smile is doing _something_ to him, so he settles his gaze on the floor. Yes, that seems safe enough, Zedaph muses, and his fingers finally wrap around the wooden knob.

'Ah, yes', Impulse hums and he hears him rummage through his pockets. Zedaph risks a glance up, noting the paper in his hand, but his eyes quickly switch to the sandstone flooring when Impulse twirls it between his fingers with dexterity that Zedaph knows all to intimately. Impulse chuckles. Zedaph's throat runs a dry as Impulse hooks a finger under his chin and raises his head so their eyes meet, melted amber clashing with vibrant purple. _When had Impulse even gotten up_ , Zedaph finds himself wondering.

'That was very smart of you. Items, everyone can build a farm for or go on a grinding trip to gather, but services? _Very smart_ , Zed', the hand under his chin cups his jaw, long fingers spanning the side of his face and brushing against pale yellow hair in a caress that would be sweet in any other context, but that, right now, makes Zedaph tense up. His cheeks are slightly squished when Impulse runs his thumb over his other cheek, so his response is just slightly muffled, but Zedaph prides himself in the steadiness that he manages to fake.

'And what about _your_ service, Pulsey?', Zedaph keeps his gaze anywhere but on Impulse, which, apparently, isn't all that appreciated because the hold Impulse has on his face tightens and Zedaph gasps.

‘Mh-hm, that’s why I called you over, isn’t it?’, Impulse confirms and the grip that had become almost uncomfortable, suddenly, disappears. Zedaph feels a hand settle on his own against the doorknob and _twist_. He gasps as he is pressed against the closed door and a resounding click echoes around the tiny room. With a nervous chuckle and without a hand forcing his eyes to meet Impulse, Zedaph recommences avoiding looking at him. They’re locked in now and Zedaph is way more excited than he should be.

‘I would assume so, yes, especially given your, er... Bowtie request?’, Zedaph answers and brings both of his hands back up to his own chest. Impulse chuckles and if Zedaph weren’t propped up against the entrance, he thinks he might have had the pleasure of getting acquainted with the floor.

‘You are very much right, Zed. I plan to cash this in right now actually, but the bowtie was, ah, more of a way to warn you of what’s to come’, and suddenly, though Impulse hadn’t been touching him, only standing close enough for Zedaph to count his eyelashes if he wasn’t so busy eyeing the ceiling, when he puts some distance between them, Zedaph feels the slightest chill, or maybe something else, but the end result is the same, he shivers and finally meets Impulse’s gaze, ‘So _strip_.’

Zedaph’s eyes widen with shock that fades into red-faced embarrassment. 

‘Impulse!’, he whines and covers his face with his hand, ‘What the hell, babe, if you wanted to have sex, all you had to do was a-’

A fist in his hair cuts him off and Zedaph’s blubbers to a stop, heart beating wildly inside his chest. The fingers curl into his blonde hair and _pull_ and Zedaph tries, he really does, he _tries_ to keep the mewl that bubbles up in his throat from escaping, but the sound rings high and true. 

‘I paid your price, time for you to do the same, Zed’, Impulse says, nonchalantly, but there’s something there, just between the lines, something darker that Zedaph can’t quite comprehend but is not _opposed_ to, and then, just like that, Impulse pushes him to his knees by the hair with a calculating motion.

Zedaph looks up at Impulse with his arms awkwardly by his side and his lips parted in surprise. _Aroused_ surprise.

Here’s the thing, here’s the _interesting_ thing. While Tango enjoys the rougher loving that Zedaph has grown _quite_ comfortable with over the years, Impulse tends to be calm and collected and _sweet_ during their nightly activities. He is an attentive lover, but sometimes, something passes over his face, Impulse’s hands turn a bit firmer, his gaze more heated and yet steadier and that’s when, at least, Zedaph _thinks_ that’s when Impulse’s less family friendly wants and needs come to life and he isn’t one to kinkshame, he and Tango have done plenty of filthy things and Impulse knows that very well, but why would Impulse use one of his zouchers for this when he could have just-

‘I want you to refer to me as sir. Can you do that for me, Zed?’

 _Ah_ , Zedaph thinks for a fraction of a second, _the zoucher sets the scene, maybe?_ , but he doesn’t have time to dwell on his own thoughts because Impulse twists the hand he has in Zedaph’s hair just a bit, just _enough_ and Zedaph nods so quickly that his vision blurs a little, tears springing to his eyes because of the way his movements pull on the strands still held tightly by Impulse. But Impulse doesn’t seem satisfied, his eyes narrowing down at Zedaph.

‘Y-yes?’, Zedaph offers, smiling sheepishly, but Impulse’s face hardens further.

‘Yes _what_ , Zed’, and it’s not a question, or a request, or a plea, it is a _command_.

Zedaph inhales sharply, the blood that, until then, had been busy turning his face into an overly ripe tomato, flows to his nether regions and Zedaph squirms where he stands on his knees.

‘Yes… Sir’, Zedaph whispers, voice squeaky with embarrassment and the fingers in his hair relax, suddenly, stretching over his scalp and Impulse is _petting_ Zedaph.

‘That’s it, be _good_ for me. I think you’re starting to understand what I want, aren’t you?’, Impulse leans down enough to breathe the words into Zedaph’s ear, ‘Say “red” if you want to stop, “yellow” if you want to slow down and “green” if everything is in order.’

Zedaph has to stop and blink. They’d used safewords before, but usually only when Tango was using toys on him and Zedaph wonders what Impulse has in store for him. He would be lying, and a glance at his crotch is enough to be proof of that, if he said he isn’t _excited_ for whatever that might entail.

‘Well?’, Impulse asks and retracts his hand from Zedaph, standing back up and, _oh God,_ Zedaph is eye-level with Impulse’s damn dick and it’s too dark for him to actually check if Impulse is as _happy_ about this turn of events as Zedaph himself is, but Zedaph tenses up, the pressure in his gut twisting.

‘...Green? Er- I mean, green, sir?’, Zedaph isn’t sure if it’s the appropriate answer but Impulse smiles and Zedaph wants to return the gesture, but, apparently, Zedaph’s half mumbled response had been Impulse’s signal to start the game, because he lays back down on the bed, leaving Zedaph cold and wanting on the floor in front of the locked door.

‘Clothes off’, Impulse echoes his earlier order and Zedaph almost jumps, fingers already on his cardigan’s buttons, shaky and a bit too excited as they are. It doesn't take him too long to remove his trousers and pants too and, soon, he is left in nothing but a black t-shirt that is usually hidden behind other layers of clothing, one that Zedaph is sure Impulse recognises as one of his own. It hangs just a bit too loose on Zedaph, the collar flopping downwards and revealing sun-kissed skin and sharp collarbones. Zedaph looks back up at Impulse and the smile on his face is positively _burning_ with lust, which makes Zedaph's blood run even hotter.

'So good for me, so obedient', Impulse chuckles again and Zedaph shivers, the chill too much on his heated, naked skin, and Zedaph looks into Impulse's eyes.

'I'm glad… Sir', and Zedaph feels it in his bones when Impulse exhales loudly, fondness and something darker flashing in his eyes as he smiles. Zedaph inhales slowly and settles on his spot on the rough floor a bit more comfortably, but this seems to spark something inside Impulse, who leans back into the bed, pose relaxed, but very much _controlled_. Zedaph wonders for a second if that means something, but then Impulse is popping the button of his jeans open with deft fingers, looking almost casual as he does it, and Zedaph’s dick gives an interested twitch.

‘Come here, Zedaph’, Impulse purrs, his smile widening a fraction and he _never_ calls Zed by his full name, but it’s not that big of a deal, Zedaph thinks, despite the way it makes his insides feel even warmer. Suppressing a small sound, Zedaph uses his hands to push himself up, but then Impulse clicks his tongue and, looking up, half crouched as he still is, Zedaph sees that Impulse is no longer smiling. His face is carefully neutral, only the set of his shoulders betraying the fact that he is not quite pleased with Zedaph.

‘...Sir?’, he asks, tentatively, and he has to catch his breath for a second, because when Impulse speaks again, his voice is both rough with arousal, but also deep with something else, something that makes Zedaph want to curl in his lap and never get up.

‘Did I say you could stand up, Zedaph?’, Impulse asks, his gaze locked onto Zedaph with an intensity that _hurts_ as much as it soothes, ‘No. No, Zedaph, what I want you to do is _crawl_.’

Zedaph’s eyes widen almost comically and there’s a ‘but I-’ on his tongue, which Impulse swiftly cuts off with a wave of his hand and a near growl. 

_Who are you and what have you done to my sweet, caring boyfriend,_ Zedaph finds himself thinking, but he is not denying that this is turning him on more than he’d ever admit to anyone outside of his head. Something about being told what to do, about being at someone’s mercy, it’s almost-

‘Don’t you want to be a good boy for your master for the day, Zedaph?’, the words are barely above a whisper but Zedaph can hear them just fine in the small room and they _ring_ inside his head. _Good boy_ , God, Zedaph is sure that his whole face is red right now, but something inside his brain tells him to obey, because he wants to be good for Impulse, wants to-

 _It’s almost electrifying_.

And so, with a shaky sigh and shakier yet limbs, Zedaph gets back on his hands and knees and, for some reason, as he crawls towards Impulse, knees scraping against the sandstone and palms sweaty and hot, he doesn’t feel awkward. At first, Zedaph thinks it might be because he’s done plenty of embarrassing things in his life and he is, by now, at the very least, shameless enough to do such a small task, but no, and Zedaph realises this just as he gets to the bed where he stops, kneeling between Impulse’s legs, eyes almost fixed on Impulse’s crotch, where he can see a tent starting to form in his underwear, this feels right because this is _exactly_ what Impulse wants.

One hand settles in his hair again for the briefest of seconds and Zedaph wants to cling to the warmth it provides, but after it ruffles his hair, it is gone again.

‘Are you going to do as I say, Zedaph? Can you do that?’, Impulse asks from above him, looking down at him like he doubts Zedaph would, and that just makes Zedaph tense up with a need to prove him wrong, _a need to just let Impulse do as he pleases with him, order him around, take him against one of these cramped walls, fuck, just wreck him_ , so he looks up at him with glistening eyes, pupils wide with his own want.

‘Yes, sir’, he says and his voice is quiet, but determined. Impulse’s eyes narrow, but more in the way they would when he is presented with a challenge rather than the way they turn to slits when Zedaph does something stupid.

‘Good boy’, well, that goes straight to Zedaph’s head and cock, ‘Take me out of my pants.’

And Zedaph reaches out with unsure fingers, shimmies Impulse’s jeans over his thighs and then reaches inside his undergarments, only for his hands to wrap around a warm, still half soft erection. Zedaph holds his breath as Impulse lets out a pleased hum.

‘Put it in your mouth Zedaph’, is his next order and Zedaph swallows, his throat suddenly too dry with excitement, but he complies, and his eyes meet Impulse as he does so. Zedaph thinks that Impulse can determine just how desperate Zedaph already feels just by looking at him, and the corner of his lips twitches in a crooked grin. Zedaph licks his lips, and Impulse follows the movement with his gaze, before parting them and ever so slowly slipping the head of Impulse’s cock between them.

It slides in easily and Zedaph takes it in as far as it can go, wrapping a hand on the part that he can’t fit inside, because though he isn’t as girthy as Tango, Impulse is _long_ and it always makes Zedaph blush, thinking about just how far inside Impulse can reach, but he has a job to do right now.

‘God, I love your mouth, Zedaph. So warm and wet...’, Impulse growls and his hands, both of them, this time, bury themselves in his hair, gripping soft strands between rough fingers. Zedaph makes a sound around Impulse’s dick and it seems to affect Impulse, because his hips twitch and he pushes just a little bit further inside Zedaph’s mouth, the head of his shaft meeting the back of his throat. Zedaph is quite proud of the fact that he doesn’t outright gag, but drool gathers at the corners of his lips and Zedaph blushes at the mental image of himself slobbering over Impulse’s erection.

The hands in his hair tighten even more and it takes Zedaph a second to realise that Impulse is pulling his head back, but when he does notice it, and warmth surges into his own cock at being _directed_ like this, Zedaph lets himself be moved until only the tip remains between his lips, and he suckles on it, the bitter taste of precum both too salty for him and something he craves, almost desperately so.

‘I want to fuck your mouth, Zedaph’, Impulse says in his deep voice and Zedaph goes boneless, body held up by Impulse’s hands pulling his hair as he struggles to stay upright, ‘I want to see you gag on my cock, to see you cry from it.’

Zedaph doesn’t even realise he’s nodding slightly until he hears Impulse laugh, voice like honey mixed with something more bitter, and Impulse swipes a thumb at the corner of his lips, where a bit of drool is already leaking. Zedaph wraps his tongue around the head in his mouth and Impulse moans and Zedaph knows that he’s given all of the affirmative answers Impulse needs. Zedaph feels his blood boil as his head is pulled forwards until he feels the blunt end of Impulse’s cock hitting the back of throat and he winces a little, but doesn’t gag this time either, not yet.

‘ _Fuck, you_ feel so good, so tight, Zedaph.’

With a small thrust, Impulse sheathes himself and Zedaph feels tears spring into his eyes. It doesn’t feel _good_ , per se, to have a cock shoved down his throat, it burns and breathing gets harder and his jaw begins aching all too soon, usually, but Zedaph feels more arousal pool in his stomach because while the action itself isn’t all to pleasurable for him, it is for Impulse, and the thought of being used like this makes his belly burn with the satisfaction of being the one to bring Impulse this sort of pleasure. The man above him moans and, mostly, uses the grip he has on Zedaph’s hair to pull him to and fro, the slight pain of having his hair pulled doing nothing except making Zedaph more sensitive, and the sounds Impulse makes do _something_ to Zedaph. His cock, hidden by the hem of his shirt, is standing at full attention and is probably already leaking from all of this and, really, it’s not his fault Impulse is this attractive or that Zedaph might be more aroused by someone taking control of him than he lets on. Can Impulse really blame him when Zedaph sneaks a hand beneath his shirt, fingers tracing his own hard-on, and a moan that Zedaph can’t hold back, not with Impulse thrusting into his throat and fucking Zedaph’s face like a damn savage, vibrates around the cock inside his mouth, which seems to arouse Impulse further and his thrusts turn _wild_ , and Zedaph’s jaw, as predicted, is starting to ache, and he is drooling, and tears start trailing down his face and Impulse-

And Impulse _stops._

Zedaph blinks his eyes open because, with the whole overload of stimuli, apparently, he had closed them at some point and when he looks up at Impulse again, who drags his cock out of his mouth roughly, he sees disappointment. A pit forms inside Zedaph’s stomach, but he still has his hand wrapped around his dick and he knows that his lips are red, he knows that he looks like a mess, but none of that explains why Impulse stopped.

He is no longer touching Zedaph, but is instead sitting on the bed again, one hand stroking himself slowly, looking, for all the world, _bored_. Zedaph shrinks in on himself and his hands are back on the t-shirt’s hem, pulling the black material, well-worn and soft beneath his fingers, down, to hide himself as much as he can with what little he has.

‘I thought you wanted to be a good boy’, Impulse says and he sounds so cold that Zedaph shivers, not only from arousal, but because he doesn’t like this, feeling like he’s failed Impulse in some way, it _eats_ at him.

‘B-but.... But I _was_! Sir...’, Zedaph rememembers to add the title at the last second and Impulse’s gaze thaws just a little bit, but Zedaph still wishes it would return to the hunger from earlier.

‘Zedaph, did I tell you that you could touch yourself?’, Impulse asks and he sounds curious, and, all at once, Zedaph realises it is not even really a question, it is very much a statement. He shakes his head.

‘No, that’s right. What did I tell you, Zedaph?’

Zedaph swallows and tries to gather his thoughts, using the back of his hand to wipe some of the saliva off of his face, but he _knows_ what Impulse wants to hear and Zedaph feels shame crawl up his spine, hot and, for whatever reason that Zedaph chooses to ignore right now, arousing.

‘That you...’, Zedaph pauses, looking at his own lap, at the way the t-shirt pulls and stretches over his still hard cock., ‘That you wanted to...’

_You wanted to fuck my mouth._

And Impulse seems to have lost what little patience he had left because he grabs Zedaph’s face and pulls his lower lip down with his thumb, opening his mouth and running the pad of his finger over his tongue. Zedaph wants to moan because, fuck, that feels so good, but he knows that’s not what Impulse wants right now, so he digs his nails into his thighs, his whole body tense.

_You wanted to see me cry._

‘Speak, Zedaph, before I make you’, there’s thinly veiled threat there and it makes his cock ache, Zedaph realises with mild surprise. Impulse’s expression turns to a glare when Zedaph doesn’t speak, instead breathing a bit harder because Impulse, as he is right now, is turning Zedaph’s brain into putty. So he remains quiet.

Impulse lets go of his face and stands up with a sigh, turning his back to Zedaph as he walks over to one of the chests, footsteps firm but not hurried. He looks like he knows exactly what he is doing and Zedaph is sure that means nothing good for him. 

‘I thought you could be obedient, could serve me right, honey’, Impulse finds what he is looking for and his voice seems just that little bit more positive, which Zedaph sees as more dangerous than before. 

‘But I-’, Zedaph tries to speak, but then Impulse is walking back to the bed and picking him up, one arm wrapped around his waist as he plops Zedaph onto the bed, face down and spread out. Zedaph doesn’t panic at first, but then, and he feels them before he sees them, there’s bits of rope being tied around his ankles. Zedaph whines at the feeling of being restrained.

‘Shush, now’, Impulse growls and before Zedaph can even think about a reply, his ankles are tied to opposite ends of the bed, leaving him spreadeagled, his shirt riding up his spine. He thrashes, noting that the ropes are quite soft and tied _just_ tightly enough for Zedaph to be completely trapped, but not tight enough to dig into his skin, not too badly, at least. 

‘Sir, wait! All this because I touched m-myself once?! I won’t do it again, I promise, please just-’, Zedaph whimpers, bringing his hands under his chest to raise his torso, but then they are grabbed by Impulse’s larger ones and pushed together, only to be neatly tied as well and pushed above his head and down between his shoulder blades at an awkward angle.

‘No, Zedaph, that’s not all’, Impulse says, calmly, running a hand where his back is bare, bringing the t-shirt even further up, until Zedaph’s entire back is on display. Impulse traces the knobs of his spine and Zedaph feels the goosebumps raised on his skin due to that simple touch. Then something else is touching his back, then his arse, something cool and smooth and solid, something-

_Whack!_

Zedaph’s muscles tense up and he lets out a howl as the pain spreads from where - what the hell had that been?! - Impulse had struck him. It hadn’t been hard enough to do all too much damage, the sting at about the same level that Zedaph would feel from having his cheek pinched, but it is _unexpected._

‘I-Impulse!’, he cries out, but Zedaph can’t deny the fact that a wet spot is starting to form on the mattress beneath him, and maybe that’s most worrying part of this whole thing, the fact that the slight pain had felt _good_ , in a weird way that Zedaph doesn’t have the mental facilities to analyse right now.

‘Colour?’, Impulse whispers in his ear, closer than what Zedaph expects and gentler than he thinks he can handle. Zedaph thinks about it for a second. Getting hit with, and Zedaph glances over his shoulder, surprised at what he sees, _getting hit with a long, thin, wooden cane_ , it had, somehow, felt good and Zedaph feels too turned on right now to even think, so of course, his response is a moaned ‘G-Green!’

‘My, my, Zed, if you think I’m punishing you for that alone, then you think very lowly of me’, Impulse continues, stepping right back into the scene, sounding amused, and Zedaph feels the cane caress over the back of one thigh, the muscles there already tensing up in anticipation of another hit, ‘Did you think you could get away with letting just about everyone _use_ you?’

Zedaph lets out a little gasp at the implication of that.

‘But they wouldn’t-’, Zedaph tries to interrupt, but that’s when the cane falls again and it’s slightly harder this time, leaving the area numb before the ache sets in.

‘Don’t be naive, you silly, little thing. Who knows, maybe whoever had gotten this little service of yours would have just pranced around with a butler in toe, maybe it would have been all fun and games’, and Zedaph tries to nod, but his face is pressed into a pillow, so that’s a bit harder, especially seeing as he gets struck again, the cane hitting the bottom of a check, ‘Or maybe, _maybe, they_ would have had you like I did.’

The cane falls in quick succession twice more before settling at the base of his spine. Zedaph lets out a wet sob and between his own belly and the sheets, his cock twitches, begging for any sort of attention, especially with the friction of the bed and his own body feeling so good, but Zedaph doesn’t dare move. Somehow, that makes his blood flow into his dick even faster.

‘Is that why you did it, Zedaph?’, Impulse asks, his face now buried in Zedaph’s neck, his lips kissing the shell of his ear before leaving another kiss just where jaw meets necks tendons.

‘No! N-no, sir! I just wanted- I _needed-_ ’, but his words get caught in his throat as Impulse bites the side of neck, _hard_ , before starting to suck on the skin there, leaving a red mark that will later darken into a bruise.

‘Diamonds?’, Impulse offers kindly, but he strikes Zedaph with the cane once more, the hit landing across his back, softer than the ones before, but it hurts more here. Zedaph moans, high and needy, and his body pulses with the shocks of pain turning into pleasure.

‘Are you sure that’s all? Are you sure you didn’t just want someone to...’

Suddenly, there’s fingers at his entrance, wet, _when had Impulse grabbed the lube_ , and heated, not penetrating, just resting on the ring of muscles that quiver under his touch.

‘Maybe you just wanted someone to order your around… Hold you down and have their way with you. You’re so cute when you’re getting fucked, Zed, I’m sure there would have been enough candidates who would have paid diamonds to get to take you, too, but you were _sneaky_ about it. Smart, little Zedaph’, Impulse chuckles and moves to the other side of his neck, scraping his teeth against the unmarked skin he finds there.

‘ _Bad, little Zedaph_ ’, Impulse whispers and, all at once, two fingers push inside him, not even bothering to let him adjust, just scissoring him open as soon as they’re inside. Zedaph cries out, voice wrecked with everything that he feels, the burn of the stretch, the ecstasy of Impulse almost brushing against his prostate with his fingers, the lingering pain of the cane, it feels like so much and Zedaph just wants to allow his own pleasure to peak, but Impulse is just shy of reaching the bundle of nerves inside Zedaph, intentionally so, and he can’t move his hands to his own cock, bound as they are and so Zedaph moans and twitches as the sensations climb, higher and higher, never plateauing.

Another finger enters him and Zedaph howls at how overwhelming everything is. He knows that if he tries hard enough, he could probably come just like this, but Zedaph knows that would just warrant another punishment and, _by God_ , he wants to be good for Impulse, wants to be his good boy-

‘But you’re not theirs to take, no. You’re ours alone, Zedaph, you’re _our_ bad, little boy’, and Zedaph would never let either Impulse, nor Tango get away with being possessive outside of the bedroom, they have no reason to and it is quite annoying, but like this, between the sheets, Zedaph can’t help but _savour_ it.

Impulse finally moves, his fingers leaving Zedaph’s entrance, dragging against his overly sensitive insides only for him to sit between Zedaph’s spread legs, his cock hard and dripping with precum as it settles where his fingers had been stretching him. Zedaph’s hips twitch as he tries to get Impulse to enter him, but he is just out of reach. The way Impulse’s hands wrap around him, one on his waist and one across his bound wrists, on his back, with a proprietary grip, makes Zedaph lose his mind.

‘Impulse- _Sir, please_!’, Zedaph begs, but with the way Impulse’s thumb digs into his hip bone, he knows it’s not nearly enough, ‘P-please, just- Fuck me, sir, I need it!’

And he does, he really does, he needs this more than he needs diamonds, so when Impulse thrusts inside roughly, Zedaph feels on the verge of an orgasm, but Impulse hadn’t given him permission yet, so he can’t- 

_He shouldn’t-_

‘Do you, now? You want to come, Zedaph?’

And he starts thrusting, fast and hard, not caring for Zedaph’s wishes, but rather, chasing his own orgasm.

‘Yea- AH!’, when Impulse hits that spot, perhaps accidentally, even, the world vanishes before Zedaph’s eyes for a second and he thinks he is screaming, again, but he is not sure, not with his sweet spot being pounded into so violently.

‘Mhh’, Impulse hums, almost growls, ‘Yeah, you want to come, don’t you, pretty boy? But you don’t deserve it, Zedaph. You’ve been bad and bad boys don’t get to come.’

And he keeps fucking into Zedaph, faster and faster, and despite his legs being bound to the bedposts, he almost feels like he is being pushed upwards into the bed, the thrusts making his whole body shiver and shake with the intensity of everything going on. 

‘N-no, I’ve been- I’ve been good, please let me… Lemme come, Impulse, sir! I w-wanna be good, I- hngh…!’, Zedaph cries, and he knows that he is babbling nonsense at this point, but Impulse says nothing else and fire engulfs Zedaph as he feels Impulse groan and give one, two more hard thrusts, before burying himself inside Zedaph to the hilt and painting his inner walls with his release. Zedaph mewls, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with how hard he tries to keep himself from coming and, after a few moments, Impulse finally sighs, his breath cool against Zedaph’s heated skin, and pulls out, making Zedaph wince and his hole clench.

It’s with tired movements that Impulse reaches the ropes tied around Zedaph’s limbs, untying them, one by one, and trying to jostle Zedaph as little as possible, but Zedaph is still dangling above the abyss, mind focused on one thing and one thing only.

_Don’t come._

Then Impulse is pulling Zedaph into his lap and wrapping a hand around his cock. He is smiling, warmly, _kindly_ , as he usually does, eyes so full of love and affection and-

‘You may come, Zed.’

-and Zedaph is _gone._

* * *

Zedaph finds himself cuddled into two pairs of arms, his body submerged into almost scathing hot water, just as he likes it, and he registers only distantly that he, Impulse and Tango have somehow made it into a bathtub, one built especially for them, with three people in mind, while Zedaph was sleeping. The hot water soothes his aches and he kisses both of his boyfriends gently, smiling at them and feeling his heart swell with adoration.

Maybe letting himself be ordered around isn’t all too bad, Zedaph smiles, flicking Impulse’s forehead, who just grins sheepishly and Tango shakes his head at both of them before throwing some of the bath bubbles at them.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is focused on one of my favourite tropes in erotica: commands and punishments. And yes, Impulse being this very good and very happy person outside the bed but this cold, domineering top between the sheets? 👌  
> -Anon A.
> 
> PS. I made an account, the one this is gifted to.


End file.
